Powerless

When thunderstorms swept through Connecticut last Thursday afternoon, the sky darkened to an eerie green, rain plunged just outside our open windows, and sirens started wailing in the distance.  Our electricity flickered once, then vanished for good, making the darkness more ominous and bringing the alien sirens closer.  It was creepy, so we rounded up the family and decided to go out to dinner.

We had to take lengthy detours twice to avoid downed trees, but we ate well and expected the lights to be back on by the time we returned.  They were not.  We hauled the generator out of the garage to the back porch and while Team #1 tried to start it, a project that would never succeed despite disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling the carburetor, Team #2 mustered candles and holders.

The first night, roughing it had a certain charm.  By the next day, with trips for ice to pack in the fridge, waning hot water, and computer and phone batteries running low, it was not fun anymore.  The air in the house was too quiet and too still with the windows closed to minimize the summer heat.  I wrote in the UConn library where I could recharge my computer and check email, came home for lunch, and then headed to Starbucks to write some more.

On my way home, I found neighbors from one side of the street stringing orange extension cords across the road to borrow electricity from neighbors on the other side.  Another neighbor had a generator running loudly in his side yard, but many of the houses were still dark.  We stood in the street, swapping stories of powerlessness and resourcefulness.  We traded updates about our calls to CL+P, and we could hear chainsaws in the woods where a line was down.  We were hopeful.

Later, I read that union workers were sent home after 16-hour shifts of clearing power lines, and the union leader objected, saying his teams could have worked longer, helping customers and earning double over-time.  I think, personally, a 16-hour shift is plenty long enough.  After all, we weren’t in a life-threatening situation out here.  The crews got to us when they could.  By Saturday morning, the power was on again, and normal life resumed.

This loss of power reminds me how completely I take as a given that I’ll always have electricity.  It gives me light at night, extends the freshness of my food, keeps me connected via the internet to distant friends, powers my computer for my work, heats my water for my shower, and runs a million other systems I’m connected to.  This loss also reminded me that I have neighbors I like, that my family rises to peculiar situations with humor, and that candlelight is gently beautiful.  I’m grateful.